24 Nov 2008

Bone dry the heather. The scent of rotting vegetation. Lambs spill to old bones. Crushed beneath the lowering sky. Gravel grey and ominous. The brush tail of tree walkers. The crunch of pine. Needle prickly and fresh.

Tictac>>>You would love the place. Scotland. Facing Loch Ryan and beyond that ...the Atlantic and America. A beautiful and wild, unkempt place miles from anywhere. The nearest town is seven miles away.

i think you are right,cj...i would love that place.there is a sort of loneliness mixed to sadness some places in Scotland give me and yet this sort of desolation kind of feeling doesn't spoil my pleasure to be there.